


The Things You Like

by oftennot



Series: In Which Fjord Catches Feelings [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Bad Flirting, F/M, Fjord is a bastard and doesn't care, Implied/Referenced Infidelity, Luc does exist, Mentions of Blood, Nott and Yeza ARE married, Sexual Tension, descriptions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-24 02:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21091832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftennot/pseuds/oftennot
Summary: "If I weren't married,"She'd said it as a joke, part of the typical teasing and banter routine the two of them had fallen into. Nothing more than a passing comment.But Fjord wants to see just how far he can push Nott before she cracks.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story follows canon. Nott is married to Yeza and has Luc. Fjord is a bastard and doesn't care. If implied, referenced, or even the possibility of infidelity makes you uncomfortable, this is not the story for you. Please turn back now. You have been warned. 
> 
> This story is also slighty crack. Please don't take it too seriously. Let Nott have fun!!!

It’s official: Fjord is an absolute idiot. 

This isn’t news. Most of the Mighty Nein would readily agree with him and Nott never misses an opportunity to remind him of this fact. There was a time when this realization would have bothered him, made him doubt himself. He tried so hard to play the part of the calm, cool, and confident leader, but there was no more pretending with the group or himself. 

Because Fjord is thinking about sleeping with Nott. 

As in, _ having sex with Nott. _

He shouldn’t be entertaining these thoughts. She’s a married woman after all, with a loving husband and adorable son waiting for her. He’d have to be an idiot to ever think that he could have a chance.

But, well, the adventuring road is a long and perilous one, and things can get tense. Any day could be your last, and flirting with death day after day can get to you. Sometimes you just need to blow off some steam. For Nott, that usually meant taking sips from her flask or berating Fjord. She'd made multiple jokes at his expense about his muscular physique, especially after he emerged from the Wildmother’s seaweed cocoon with a much more defined and chiseled body. He's accepted that he is an attractive person and that draws people to him. 

One of whom is Nott. 

The question is, how much of it was her trying to get a rise out of him, and how much of it was Nott overplaying her hand and revealing more than she intended? 

_ "If I weren't married," _

She’d said it as a joke, part of the typical teasing and banter routine the two of them had fallen into. Nothing more than a passing comment.

But it seemed to imply more. It was a statement so outrageous that it might contain some truth — a hint of longing. 

If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know what he’s doing; it certainly isn’t right. Fjord just wants to see how far he can push Nott before she cracks.

He needs to be subtle, which will require him to actually put some thought into his schemes. If he pushes too far too fast, she'll lash out in a bad way. No, he has to take this slow. She won’t give in easily. Much of their relationship is built on insults and competition. Hell, he’s not even sure if she’ll realize he’s trying to _ flirt _ with her since he’s usually rolling his eyes at her antics rather than responding in kind. 

He knows that she likes his body. He can work with that. Fjord may not be the brains of the group, but he has a silver tongue and he’s seduced people before (he pointedly ignores how his last sexual escapade ended in a mutiny and beheading). Since it’s not unusual for Nott to joke about admiring his physique, it won’t draw any attention from the other group members if Fjord starts leaning into that. 

An accidental touch here, a lingering glance there. Words laced with double meanings, designed to leave the other person wondering if they’re reading too much into things. These are intricate rituals and there is a ninety percent chance all this will end with Nott slitting his throat. That thought alone excites him more than it should. 

He’s made worse decisions. If this makes him a terrible person, then so be it. He was never sure that he was a good man in the first place. 

* * *

The group has found themselves in a dark cave, their destination unknown but certain to be dangerous. Inside the cavern it’s cold and dark, the wind from outside flowing in but the moonlight reaching no further than the entrance. Caleb summons his globules of light to guide them as they continue on. Nott takes the lead and slinks ahead of the group as she checks for traps. She’s heading out of the faint glow of the dancing lights, but Fjord can still discern the outline of her form in the dark. 

A few minutes later Nott returns, giving the all clear. “The path narrows about a hundred meters down,” she informs the group. “We’ll need to go single file. I’ll stay in front to check for more traps along the way.” 

They begin shuffling around and Fjord takes the opportunity to position himself right behind her. She raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure you won’t be scared of any monsters lurking within, Fjord?” Her yellow eyes glow in the dim light, bright and mocking. “Wouldn’t you feel safer in the middle?”

Fjord reaches up to tap the hilt of Dwueth'var. “I think I’ll be alright. Plus, someone’s got to watch your back, right?” He winks at her. 

Nott is unimpressed. “Try not to trip over your own two feet. I can’t be looking over my shoulder to make sure you haven’t done something stupid.” 

She turns and continues back down the path before he can respond. 

Typical Nott. He’s been on the receiving end of her cutting words so often that they slide off his skin like water. Now it brings a smile to his face. Oh, she has no idea what he has in store for her. 

They travel deeper into the cave for a while, different members of the Mighty Nein speaking up to point out something unusual or for idle chatter. Jester pipes up with “Are we there yet?” every few minutes. About twenty minutes into their trek Nott holds up a hand to halt the group. 

“I think I see something.” 

“Is it a trap?” Beau asks.

“I’m not sure,” Nott says. “Be careful.”

Her gait slows as she examines the ground. Fjord keeps pace behind her, hovering closer than he probably should. When Nott stops suddenly and crouches down to get a better look at something, Fjord nearly trips over her. He catches himself before he can stumble (just like she joked he would) but the proximity gives him an idea. 

Her small stature makes it easy for him to lean over her, inching ever so slightly into her personal space. She's bent over a seemingly innocuous rock on the road, brows pinched as her eyes dart around, looking for any signs of trouble. She doesn't notice him, doesn't quite sense his presence yet, so when Nott nods to herself in confirmation and turns back to the group to give the all clear, her nose bumps right into Fjord's pelvis. 

She lets out her classic Nott screech as she stumbles back, hands already reaching for her crossbow.

"Whoa, easy there," Fjord says and reaches both hands out to grip at her shoulders, steadying her. "Didn't mean to scare you." 

Nott scowls at him, clearly flustered from being caught off guard. "I should've known that horse breath was you breathing down my neck." 

Fjord only smirks; he had expected a typical spitfire response from her. He says nothing in reply, instead reaching up to gently brush the back of his fingers across her cheek. Nott startles, mouth parting to suck in a breath.

"Sorry, you had some dirt there."

He lets the contact linger for a fraction of a second longer, then withdraws his hands and rights himself. Nott is back to glaring at him, but Fjord is damn sure her cheeks have darkened in what must be a blush. 

"Watch yourself," Nott says. "I won't hesitate to cut you." 

Fjord chuckles, low and deep. "I wouldn't doubt it." 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, turning back to continue down the path, but he catches a brief glimpse of her lips turning up in a smile.

Things are off to a promising start.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains some swearing and brief descriptions of battle injuries and blood. 
> 
> The monsters mentioned are not from any D&D material and are something I made up on the spot, as you will probably be able to tell from the inaccurate descriptions of insect anatomy. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the ride <3

The next time he strikes they’re in the middle of a battle. 

A few hours into their journey the path widens again, and eventually they find themselves in a large cavern. Rocks and boulders of various sizes dot the expanse, and the group begins to split up as they wander to investigate the surroundings. A wet, slimy substance coating parts of the walls and floor catches their attention. Jester makes a joke about eating it but Caduceus speaks up after actually touching the stuff and happily announces that it’s likely from cave slugs, giant ones based on the size of the slime tracks. 

“Oh, great,” Caleb huffs. “Ja, that sounds great.” 

It’s then that said creatures start slithering out of holes in the ground and falling from the dark ceiling above, sending globs of slime splashing when they land. A strange clicking sound begins to fill the room. The bugs, it turns out, are a type of slug and beetle hybrid, evidenced by the giant mandibles protruding from their mouths. 

Caduceus is the only one excited at this discovery. “The Wildmother really does have some beautiful creations.”

Without a seconds delay the Mighty Nein split up into their usual formation — Nott, Caleb, and Caduceus hanging towards the back while Fjord, Beau, and Jester fight at a closer range. There seems to be four of the creatures, but while the group may have the numbers on their side, the slug-beetles are large, just as Caduceus predicted. When one stretches up to its full height, revealing legs that taper down into sharpened points, even Mr. Clay has to crane his head up to look at it. 

“I don’t want to fucking touch that thing,” Beau grimaces as the one nearest her launches a glob of slime in their direction. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Fjord agrees, dodging out of the way.

The fight isn’t a difficult one — insects are nothing compared to Obann and the Laughing Hand — but giant slug creatures with many sharp appendages and the ability to shoot slime that slows down their prey is, in a word, unpleasant. Beau is nimble and quick enough to jump out of the slime’s range and Jester wards it off with her shield, but Fjord is not as lucky. 

When the first glob of slime hits his cloak takes most of it. It reeks of death and the decomposed and it’s heavier than expected. Fjord rips off his cloak and flings it to the floor, keeping his eyes on the battle. He can worry about that later. Caleb has Hasted Beau who is now dancing circles around the monsters. Caduceus has figured out that light seems to weaken the slugs and slams the end of his staff to the ground as he mouths a prayer to the Wildmother, a warm, divine light pouring out from the tip. One slug screeches and tries to retreat behind a boulder, but a purple, glittering lollipop appears above it and slams down, silencing its screams. 

“Ew,” Jester sniffs when the stench of its bodily fluids permeate the stale underground air. 

Three remain and the group members have only sustained minor injuries. It should be quick work to wrap up this fight, Fjord thinks, sending two Eldritch Blasts at the slug closest to him. It growls in pain and turns to face the source of the attack, pointed talons writhing in anger and slime oozing from its translucent skin. Fjord gulps, feeling his stomach churn and shuffles back to put more distance between him and the disgusting creature. 

He doesn’t see the patch of slime coating the ground behind him until his foot is completely lodged in it, sinking halfway up his calf. “Fuck,” he curses, straining as he tries to pull his foot out. The slime is thick and unrelenting, and its grip on him seems to strengthen the more he struggles. The slug continues its approach. “Uh, guys, I could use some help over here!” He calls out to the group. He won’t be moving anytime soon, so Fjord reaches behind him to unsheathe Dwueth'var. 

The slug is only a few meters away. It rears up, legs and pincers poised to stab. Fjord braces himself as much as he can with one foot trapped, longsword at the ready. Drops of slime fly as the slug launches forward with speed surprising for its size. Fjord grits his teeth and —

A bolt shoots out from somewhere behind him and sinks right into the slug’s neck, or whatever the fuck it has. The impact knocks it off balance, careening to the side as it howls and shudders in pain. Fjord blinks, mouth hanging open in shock, when a voice rings out. 

“You better close your mouth before you drool all over yourself.” 

Fjord nearly gives himself whiplash turning to see Nott crouched on top of a nearby boulder, teeth poking out from her grins She’s already in the process of reloading her crossbow as she continues, “I gotta say, you make a great damsel in distress, Fjord. Stupid looks good on you.” 

“Does that make you my knight in shining armor?” Fjord asks, and the breathless smile he gives her is more genuine than he thought it would be. “Are you going to sweep me away and ride me into the sunset?” 

Nott barks out a laugh and shakes her head. “I think you mean ‘ride _ off with _ me into the sunset,’ because what you said means something a bit different, princess.” 

“I meant what I said.”

Nott’s eyes shoot up to meet his, the mirth that had been lighting them now replaced with something more serious. Fjord tries to give what he hopes is an inviting look, but it’s difficult to pull off while in an underground cave fighting slug-beetles. Speaking of — at that moment the slug from before screeches again, renewing its charge towards Fjord. It still has some fight left in it.

“Move out of the way, you idiot!” Nott yells.

“I _ can’t_, my foot got caught in slime!” 

Fjord grits his teeth and readies his longsword once more. He’s fairly confident in his swordsmanship, but his mobility is limited and this thing has a lot of pointy ends to stab him with. Nott releases another bolt at the slug, but it arcs wide and flies off into the cavern. 

It’s down to Fjord and the slug.

When it enters his range Fjord whispers the command word and his sword begins to shine with a divine blue light. He swings at the bug’s abdomen, successfully drawing a line of thick, green blood from it. He manages to parry a few attacks from its talons, but there are eight of them and Dwueth'var is only so long. The creature slices into Fjord. The wound stings and his movements begin to feel sluggish, his limbs suddenly heavy and stiff.

“Hey, Nott,” Fjord says as his vision swims. “I think this thing is poisonous.”

Dwueth'var is now too difficult for him to lift. The sword clanks to the ground as Fjord loses his grip. His chest heaves, fighting to draw breath into his lungs. He’s losing sensation in his body but he can still clearly see the slug rearing back for a powerful strike, one that could end him. 

“Oh, for fucks sake,” 

The slug lunges forward but Fjord’s body jolts as he is hit from the side instead, with enough power to dislodge his foot from the slime and send him flying. He crashes into the ground and is grateful that he is rapidly losing feeling because that’s going to hurt later. As he rolls from the momentum his arms instinctively move to wrap around the form that is clinging to his chest, shielding her from the rocks and stones that cover the floor. 

They come to a stop at the foot of a boulder, Fjord groaning as he flops onto his back. Nott sits up from where she had been cradled against his chest, a look close to genuine worry lining her features. “Are you alright?” 

Seeing as how he can’t feel his hands or feet and dark spots are filling his vision, no, he is definitely not okay. But something about the way Nott is straddling his chest, her hands clutching at his leather armor — this image of her on top of him blocks out his rapidly worsening physical state. His arm sluggishly moves to wrap around her thin waist, pulling Nott down so that their faces are only a few inches apart while his other hand cups her cheek, and she lets out an adorable squeak.

“My hero,” Fjord manages to say before his vision goes completely black.

The last thing he sees is Nott’s reddening face and he hears, 

“You _ idiot— _”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know a campfire wouldn't work with the logistics of Caleb's hut but the fic demands it!!
> 
> Thank you to everyone for reading <3 Your kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!

Fjord wakes up to the familiar shimmering glow of Caleb’s magic hut above him. He’s barely finished taking in his first breath of consciousness when a round, blue face and horns overtake his vision.

“Fjord! You’re awake!” Jester beams down at him, bells tinkling in excitement. 

Not one second later a mane of long, pink hair and a matching nose appear, Caduceus’s head bumping into Jester’s. “Welcome back, friend. You gave us quite the scare.” 

Fjord clears his throat and tries unsuccessfully, seeing as he is prone on the ground, to put more space between him and the looming faces above. “Uh, hello.”

Beau walks over and pats the clerics on the back. “Why don’t y’all give him some breathing room?” 

Fjord gives her a look of gratitude as he sits up, a bit sore and sluggish but otherwise feeling okay. 

“Thank you Jester, Caduceus, for healing me.” He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry I put myself in danger.” 

“What happened?” Beau asks. 

“I got caught in the slime and couldn’t run away. One of the slugs had me cornered. I tried my best to fight it off, but it poisoned me with one of its talons. I would’ve been finished if not for…” Fjord trails off as he scans the rest of the hut, suddenly unsure of how much he should say. Nott is a few feet away speaking with Caleb, but they both turn as they hear the conversation. Her eyes light up and she gives him another shit eating grin when she sees him. Fjord would like to think that’s her way of showing relief. Or something. 

“If not for _me_,” Nott cuts in, chest puffed out in pride. “While Fjord was shaking in his boots and nearly dying, I saved him with my superior strength and wits.” 

“You are both very accomplished fighters,” Caleb amends. “It’s good that you had each other’s backs.”

“Yes, thank you,” Fjord says, drinking in the sight of Nott smiling in her scuffed boots and dirt covered dress. “You saved my life.”

Nott looks away, rolling her eyes. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic.”

Fjord shifts his gaze from Nott when he feels a different set of eyes on him, and he sees Beau with a single eyebrow raised, fingers tapping on her knee. Fjord shrugs, and Beau inclinces her head. That’s a conversation for another time, one he would very much like to avoid. 

The group settles in for the evening, Caduceus passing around a light meal he prepared. Fjord volunteers for the first watch. 

“I got enough sleep when I was resting,” he says. “I can stay up.” 

“I’ll also take first watch,” Nott chimes in. Fjord casts a look her way, but she's occupied with gathering her things. 

As their teammates drift off to sleep, Nott and Fjord situate themselves at the front of the hut, facing the cavern they fought in earlier. A small campfire warms them from behind, lighting the hut from within. 

“Thanks again for saving me,” Fjord says after a few minutes of silence. 

Nott shrugs, not taking her eyes off the dark landscape before them. “I know, I know. I’m amazing, the only thing standing between this group and certain death.”

Sarcasm laces her tone; there’s no sincerity behind her words. There she goes again, using her dry humor and false bravado to hide behind. Nott has always been bad at taking compliments, choosing to believe the worst of herself instead. That combined with the way she’s a bit too willing to throw herself in the line of fire, to press on ahead without checking for traps or danger, her flask never too far from her lips _ — _ Fjord realizes with a shaky intake of breath that he’s not the only one with a death wish. 

Fjord looks at her in the eery quiet of the underground, allows himself to really take in Nott without fear of anyone noticing or a sudden attack getting in the way. His eyes travel from her rich, dark green hair that she’s taken to plaiting recently, noticing the way errant strands had fallen out of the binds and frame her face. She’s taken off her jacket thanks to the campfire, revealing her small, round shoulders. Fjord is surprised to learn that a spattering of dark freckles decorate her skin. The yellow dress she wears is warm, matching the color of her eyes. Some of the Mighty Nein had been surprised at her bright color choice, but Fjord had not been one of them. It suits her, and he’s glad she’s comfortable enough in her skin now to express herself more. 

He's been staring for too long and she’s definitely noticed, watching him out of the corner of her eyes. But, he notes with a thrill of excitement, she hasn’t moved away. 

Fjord clears his throat and says, “You really are amazing, you know.” 

“I don’t need you to tell me that.” 

“Right, of course. But I enjoy saying it nonetheless.”

She turns to face him completely, leveling him with a look that lets him know she sees right through his pretty words. 

“Am I laying it on thick?”

“Just a smidge, princess.” 

“What could I be doing better?” Fjord asks, placing a hand on the ground next to Nott, resting his weight on it so that he can lean in. 

Nott cranes her head up to match his gaze. The orange glow of the flames dance across her skin, the light accentuating the curve of her neck. Fjord wonders if she likes being kissed there. 

“That depends.” 

“Depends on what?” Her mouth parts slightly and Fjord swears her tongue sweeps out to lick her lips. He wonders if she's thought about kissing him before, if she would like him to close the remaining inch between them.

He feels something hard press into his side, and that’s definitely not his dick.

“What exactly you think you’re doing?” Nott finishes, still in the same position. At some point when he was busy devouring her with his eyes, Nott had pulled out her crossbow and aimed it at Fjord’s kidney. 

She’s threatening him with her weapon while her eyes are still hooded and look at him from under her lashes. Fjord is very turned on, and very confused. 

“I am… seducing you?”

There’s a beat of silence before Nott responds. She keeps him hooked with her gaze, crossbow unmoving, then asks, “Why?” 

“Because I want you.” Fjord answers truthfully. It’s now that he allows his eyes to travel down her face, past her neck glowing in the firelight, to rest on the small opening of her dress. 

“I see,” she says, more to herself than him. “Well, in that case,” His eyes return to her face in time to see Nott grin devilishly, like she does when she’s stolen something, and he flinches when her arms flex, fingers gripping the trigger. The click of the release echoes in the otherwise quiet night. 

Fjord sucks in a breath, bracing himself for the impact, but nothing happens. He looks down at his stomach and discovers that the weapon is empty, no bolts loaded. Nott starts cackling, head thrown back in glee. With the way her laughter tickles pleasantly down his spine, Fjord can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed or upset. A warmth that isn't from the fire settles over him.

“I must be doing something right,” Fjord says once Nott has quieted down into giggles. Miraculously, their friends barely stirred during the commotion. “I got you to laugh.” 

“I enjoy tormenting you,” Nott shakes her head. “That’s hardly me being _ seduced_.”

Fjord considers this and nods. “Alright, that’s one thing.”

“One what?”

“One of the things you like: tormenting me.” He gives her a sly grin of his own. “I’ll figure out what else you like, too.” 

Nott huffs and turns back to the cave, resuming their neglected watch. “I doubt you will, but I’ll enjoy watching you try!”

Fjord lets her have the last word, because he’s pretty sure she also enjoys that. He thinks it’s telling that they’re now sitting closer than before, hips nearly touching. It wasn’t him who made the last move.


End file.
